


Riddle Me This

by LunaCanisLupus_22



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Control Issues, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Obsessive Behavior, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Sexual Tension, Stalking, sort of canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaCanisLupus_22/pseuds/LunaCanisLupus_22
Summary: Ed uncovers some interesting facts about Oswald Cobblepot





	Riddle Me This

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written for this fandom before. But I just binged watched all of Gotham and I absolutely love Oswald Cobblepot and basically that turned into this fic? Enjoy!

  
Ed likes puzzles. But there’s one conundrum that he’d never intended to solve. In fact, it had never crossed his mind before. Not until circumstances brought it to his attention.

He’s never had a man in his bed before either. Not before Oswald Cobblepot. He’d barely shared it with Miss Kringle before she’d died and if anything, he’d never expected the next occupant to be a man.

Especially Mr Penguin.

He hadn’t planned to find him in the woods, or to nurse him back to health but fate certainly had its reasons. Ed realised that soon enough, saw the potential between them. Oswald can teach him so many things.

Weeks after he disappears and Ed still can’t get the smell out. It’s not floral like Miss Kringle’s perfume, he doesn’t think Penguin even bothers with cologne, but there’s something unignorable about it. Something demanding of his attention.

He’s said Oswald smelt bad before but that’s when the danger of sickness was upon him, the rich scent of blood drowning out anything else.

Ed has a very sensitive nose. Ever since he was a small child. He's always been able to sniff things out. It's one of his many rare gifts. And the scent of Oswald Cobblepot is _distinct_. 

 

When he leaves his apartment Ed is both sad and relieved to finally see him go.

Even if the smell in his bed still lingers. 

  
  
  
When Ed defrosts he's not at the docks where he first tried to kill Oswald and failed a second time.

He's also alone.

Ed has no idea how long he's been frozen for, but he's weak and dehydrated when he crawls his way out of the room they left him in. It doesn't take him long to figure it out. The room leads out to a club and Ed manages to drag himself up into the stool to sit and get his breath back. 

He has no idea whose club this is, but considering the means in which he became frozen it's absolutely probable that this has something to do with Oswald. There's a symbol hanging over the wall of the bar.

An iceberg. People would probably think it pays homage to Oswald's nickname, Penguin, but Ed knows his sense of humour. It's more than likely a joke at his expense, not Oswald's. 

Because he's been living in an iceberg for whoever knows how long. 

After he's gotten his breath back, Ed manages to lean across the counter, grabbing a bottle of something that he can't read through the leftover droplets obscuring his glasses. But the colour of the alcoholic beverage is green and that seems fitting somehow. 

He's wet and cold, but he feels like he should be colder and if any of Oswald's henchmen came in right now he'd have no chance of fighting them off. Even if his biggest weapon is his mind. 

Ed unscrews the bottle cap and lifts it to his mouth, taking deep gulping drags of the liquid. It burns all the way down. 

He should probably get out of here before long. Oswald's proven that he's capable of outsmarting him, and he's in no condition to face him today. Not when the alternative could be getting frozen again. 

Ed has no intention of becoming an iceberg for a second time. 

When there's strength in his legs again, he staggers back into the room he came out of, curious to know how he defrosted. He spots the sparking wire almost immediately. The cooling system preventing him from reanimating shorted out during the night and his icy cage began to melt. 

Nothing more than an electrical error. A freak accident. 

If he leaves now it could be some time before Oswald discovers his escape. He adjusts his bowler hat and carefully wipes the water from his glasses on a rag he finds behind the bar. It's not exactly fitting, but it will do for the time being. He takes the knife they use to cut limes from behind the bar as well, because it always serves to be prepared. 

Ed can see they've left a bowl of nuts on the counter but despite his hunger he knows better than to eat them. He needs to get out of here, regain his strength and start thinking of a new plan. Then he's coming back for Oswald. 

He manages to get outside, though it takes longer than he'd like, because he needs to stop for rest a lot. He recognises the street corner as soon as he steps out onto it, shutting the club doors behind him. 

Ed needs a place to stay. And he needs to go somewhere that Oswald would never think to find him. He can't recover if Oswald captures him beforehand, and he's wily enough to figure out what Ed is thinking. Maybe he was right. He does have a need to complete what he's started in exacting fashion. 

But maybe that's the best part. Now Ed can use his own advice, learn from his mistakes like he accused Oswald of never doing. 

Perhaps things call for a change in approach. 

Starting with his new safe house. Oswald thinks he has no one, that there aren't places he could go, or people who would take him in. That's his best bet. And his first thought is Jim Gordon. 

But who knows if he's still infected. It's more than likely that someone created an antidote but Jim will cause too much trouble anyway. Barbara and Tabitha's club is probably a war zone by now, and most, if all of them are already dead considering the tension between them before he left to retrieve Oswald. 

But that's too obvious as well. 

It comes to him when he's limping down the street. When he recognises the familiar brownstone stoop, because he once brought Miss Kringle on a double date there. Lee Thompkin's apartment. 

What would possess him to go there? 

Nothing, he decides, and that's why it's perfect. She was already on a downward spiral following the loss of her husband. Ed wouldn't be surprised if she's packed up and left the city. And if not, he has the element of surprise on his hands. 

Lee Thompkin's is certainly not expecting him so late at night. 

He takes out Oswald's tie pin that he's still carrying in his pocket and uses it to get through the front door. Lee's apartment is the second floor but the set of stairs are nearly impossible when he's so weak. He feels like Penguin when he limps up the stairs towards it, ungainly and stiff. 

It almost takes half an hour just to reach her door. And when he uses the pin to unlock it, Lee Thompkin's apartment is blissfully empty. There's still food in the cupboards though, she must have left in a hurry. 

Ed opens up a box of crackers and limps into her bedroom to find the ensuite. She has a bath. And the thought of warming himself up before getting dry appeals to all of his baser needs. 

He struggles out of his green suit, still weak, and drops it on the white tiles. He turns on the tap water getting it at the perfect temperature before he leaves it to fill up. Then he uses the toilet, keeping the bar knife and box of crackers clutched in one hand as he does so. 

When Ed is finished the bath is almost full. He climbs inside, arranging his limbs since he's always too gangly for bathtubs. It takes a bit of shifting until he's comfortable. 

His body relishes the new heat and Ed lies back and tries to relax around a mouthful of crackers, thinking of Oswald all the while. 

And his many plans for him. 

  
  
  
He lies low for two weeks until he's strong enough to face Oswald. 

He finds men's clothing in Lee's cupboards and he has no idea whether it's her dead doctor husband's or Jim's but either way they don't fit properly. There's enough food to last him a whole week and he only ventures out for groceries once. 

And during that time he's dressed so badly, hair completely unstyled, that nobody could even recognise him. 

No one comes round to the apartment either. And although Oswald and his crew is no doubt searching for him, they never try Lee Thompkin's place. Ed uses the time to himself to think some things through. 

In all fairness, he's tried to kill Oswald twice when Oswald hasn't really put in his best effort. Certainly he froze Ed for nearly a month, he checked the newspaper, but he didn't actually kill him. 

Having some time to recover has put a lot of things in perspective for him. Killing Oswald for real isn't going to suit his needs. If he's honest with himself then he knows that life worked best whenever he and Oswald were working together. When their partnership hadn't been tainted with betrayal and jealousy, they'd been able to do anything. 

And Ed's decided that he wants that back. Wasting all his efforts feuding with a man who's in love with him, or was in love with him, surely is a waste of his particular talents. 

Things are much easier now that he's become partial to keeping Oswald alive. A truce would better suit their needs. They can mend their broken partnership and look to creating a new Gotham out of the ruins of the old one. Oswald's said that he is no longer in love with him, if he can be convinced to abandon his grudge and move forward, it won't be a problem anymore. 

Oswald will find another man to love instead. 

The thought twinges painfully through him for a moment, and Ed wonders if this is what it felt like for Oswald and his jealousy of Isabella. Even if Ed is concerned purely with not being able to retain Oswald's full attention if he were to have feelings for another man. There are no romantic overtures involved. 

Ed's enduring interest in Oswald Cobblepot is purely intellectual. 

And it's time they mended their partnership. 

  
  
  
He’s tailing Oswald for weeks when he sees the man. 

They’re in a heavy crowd of pedestrians walking along the street and Oswald’s unique gait is undeniable even from 100 metres away. Ed’s glasses allow him to see the exact moment when the man crosses his path.

He comes directly out of a store opposite and passes behind Oswald to cross the street. The crowd pressing together creates a tight fit as he steps around Oswald and Ed can see clearly when he puts his hand on Oswald’s lower back to do so.

Oswald whirls about, hissing something unflattering at the man, but he barely pays any mind as he crosses the road, disappearing with the rest of the moving bodies.

Ed follows Oswald as he starts walking again, furiously limping away and he has plans to gather more information on his feathered friend’s dealings now, but the image of that man’s hand on Oswald’s lower back reappears in his mind. Like a film on repeat.

He turns towards the shop front the man came out of. A deli.

Ed watches Oswald’s form disappearing around the block and steps into the deli instead.

There’s and old motherly type woman standing behind the counter and Ed offers up his biggest smile as he steps toward her.

“Hello,” he says brightly, pulling out his keychain. “Who was that man who just left here? He dropped his keys.”  
  
His name is Robert Dun and it’s not even difficult to find his home address. Ed barely has to use the array of tools at his disposal to track him down.

It’s unusual that he has such a need to kill this man. He’s nothing but a stranger with a reasonably clean record despite some ill devised attempts at tax evasion. Hardly worth his attention. But it's the first time he felt the urge so strongly since he was frozen, and surely he deserves to enjoy himself a little.

Edward’s first murders had happened more in the spur of the moment until his careful plot to frame Jim Gordon. It's like Oswald said before, he's only really murdered for passion or self-preservation. He hasn’t quite felt the itch like this before.

But he has to kill Robert Dun.

He gets into the man’s apartment and selects a cutting knife from his kitchen. Then he sits down and waits. The entire day passes. And he doesn't move.

The room is dark when Robert Dun returns home, unlocking his door and letting light spill into the apartment. Ed waits patiently and quietly until Robert is within striking distance.

“Hello,” he says pleasantly, leaping to his feet and pushing the knife straight between the man’s ribs.

He punctures a lung on the first try and stabs the man repeatedly until he’s slumps onto the table. Ed lifts the man’s left hand onto the tabletop next, keeping it steady in order to get to work.

Hmm. Perhaps he’s going to need a sharper knife.

Once he's dead Ed dismembers the man quickly and proficiently, covered in his warm blood while he works. It’s been some time since he’s done such a big job like this but this man doesn’t need a burial. Doesn’t deserve one. Same as Tom Dougherty.

But he makes a point to cut off the hand that touched Oswald first. 

  
  
  
Firstly, in order to propose the truce, Ed needs to get Oswald alone. 

It’s time that they confront their issues. Since killing Oswald the first time, killed a part of him as well it's pointless to pretend that they don't still need each other somehow. If they're to move forward together they need to admit that they need each other. Oswald has taught him things about himself that Ed could never have understood without him. 

Even as enemies, Oswald has taught him so much. Shown him his own shortcomings which hold him back from true success. There's so much more from him that Ed wants to learn. 

But he can hardly approach Oswald when he's constantly surrounded by a sea of henchmen. And those ape-like henchmen carry machine guns.

To the manor it is then.

Oswald has twelve men stationed outside the house. Edward could kill them all, quite easily really, but he’d rather not offend Oswald. It's not necessary to get the job done. Oswald will be angry enough hearing from him after so long. After the main attraction from his club defrosted and escaped. 

Ed won't deny that it's flattering Oswald wanted him to be the centre of attention.

So he slips past the guard with the most vacant looking expression and climbs through an unlocked window.

There are men inside the house too, but they’re outside Oswald’s study. He likes to sit by the fire and ruminate on his successes of the day usually, but when Ed slips into the room he’s not there.

Puzzled, he steps back into the dining room and realises that the heavy dragging footfalls outside the door are signalling Oswald’s approach.

He withdraws the envelope out of his coat, sitting it carefully atop the table so that it’s within view. There’s no name on the outside, just the delighted curl of a question mark.

It’s a riddle of sorts. Because he couldn’t resist.

He checks the envelope again to make sure it’s sitting in the perfect spot. He should have brought a bottle of wine. Or the head of one of Oswald’s enemies.

It doesn’t serve him to be so empty handed.

Ed turns at the sound of Oswald muttering to himself as he comes closer. He grins and moves back to the window he came through, disappearing outside and into the night before Oswald can catch him.

This is fun.

It's about time he return to his own apartment now that he's taken the first step. He can hardly greet Oswald to discuss a cease fire if Oswald can't even find him. And he'd rather not be wearing ill fitting clothes when he does so. 

Home it is. 

  
  
  
There’s someone banging on his metal door.

Ed sits up straight in bed, reaching automatically for his glasses. He doesn’t need to guess who’s at his door this late. Ed can already smell him. He climbs out of bed, still dressed in his striped pyjamas as he pads over to the door.

Grinning with the delights of carefully laid plans coming to fruition, Ed drags the heavy door open. And Oswald Cobblepot is standing there pointing a gun at him.

“Hello Ed,” he says, glaring at him. “I got your letter.”

Ed throws his hands up cooperatively and steps backwards to let Oswald in, trying to keep the grin off his face as Oswald wrenches the door shut again. “Did you solve my riddle?”

Oswald turn back and puts the butt of the gun under his chin in answer. Ed tries to hide the thrill it gives him. His anger burns bright and vicious and Ed is glad that he’s back. He’s always been in awe of Oswald, of the things he can teach him.

Now it’s time they start working together again.

“I know you figured it out,” Ed says. “Clever, Oswald. The more you take, the more you leave behind.”

Oswald pushes the gun harder into Ed’s skin, the pressure making it a little harder to breathe.

“What do footsteps have to do with me killing you once and for all?”

“I want us to start again,” Ed says. “A ceasefire. A truce. Me and you. New footsteps. We’re connected, Oswald. We’ve always made a great team. Together we could-“

“Enough!” Oswald shouts, already smirking as he lifts the gun. “I won’t have this. I won’t." 

Ed's smile slips a little once it's clear that Oswald isn't taking him seriously. "You’ve outgrown your usefulness," he sneers, pushing the gun in harder. "You’re nothing to me, Mr Nygma. _Nothing_ -”

In a heat of shouted accusations and insults, Ed’s temper gets the better of him. The words boil his blood. He knocks the gun away with the back of his hand, flinging it across the room. Oswald’s eyes are wild with rage when he lunges for his throat.

Oswald might be clever and ferocious, but he’s not strong. Not stronger than Ed at least. It’s no trouble to push him up against the table in his apartment, pinning his body there by hand.

Oswald lets out a gasp, a heated cry of rage and protest as he squirms beneath Ed’s grip. His muscles flex with the strain but Penguin isn’t going anywhere. Not this time.

His body moves under his hand, struggling fitfully and for a man who values a quick mind and faster reflexes it’s some time before Ed realises that his cock has stirred in his pants.

He glances down at his crotch in confirmation and lets out a little laugh, surprised at himself. Oh dear, maybe Ed wanted more than an intellectual partnership after all. Before he can consider the implications of this realisation, Ed kicks at the inside of Oswald’s shoes, spreading his legs apart wider. 

Oswald pants and hisses angrily at him, arching under his hands until Ed steps closer and pointedly presses his erection up against Oswald’s ass.

This is a riddle Penguin can solve without blinking.

And Oswald falls silent, goes still. The anticipation of his response hangs heavily over the both of them. What will Oswald do? Does it even matter?

“Ed,” he wheezes out harshly, unexpectedly. “I want-“

He doesn’t wait for the rest. In the next moment Ed's hands are everywhere, pushing Oswald’s pinstriped coat up his spine, untucking his shirt underneath to expose his pale skin. Anything to get this restrictive clothing off of him. Oswald whines openly into the mahogany as Ed fumbles to get his belt undone.

Soon enough Ed’s yanked both of their pants down and he’s so hard that he’s leaking all over his fist.

After that it’s a mad scramble. Oswald’s arm straightens out, knocking half of Ed’s tools off the counter. Ed reaches out and catches one of the small jars before it smashes on the floor with the others.

Coconut oil. That will do.

He coats his fingers quickly, clinically, yanking down Oswald’s underwear and sliding them between his cheeks. He’s sensitive, shuddering under Ed’s touch as he pulls him open to skate his hole.

Oswald makes the most charming noise when Ed presses a finger inside. 

“Fascinating,” he breathes, watching the way Oswald’s body swallows him up. How he looks like he could already take more. “Have you had anal intercourse before?”

“N-no,” Oswald gasps. “Ed-“

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, pushing another finger in deep, past the knuckle. 

Oswald is unbelievably hot and tight. Already he wonders what it would be like to put his cock there. Call it an experiment.

Ed’s never had to stretch someone open for his cock before but there’s something engaging about the process. Oswald's body is its own kind of enigma. A test that Ed wants to solve. There's something exploratory about it that satisfies his curiosity. Soon enough he withdraws his fingers, confident that Oswald can take it. That he will take it. 

He slicks up his cock with the oil, before he presses the tip forward and slots it right up against the furl of his hole.

“Ed,” Oswald repeats breathlessly, head still turned to the side, lips parted and pupils blown.

“Mr Cobblepot,” he says, mouth wide in a smile as he shoves his cock inside. Oswald trembles and yields with a stretched out cry, arching his back as Ed presses in deep. “Maybe I do like how you say that after all.”

He pants into the desk, knuckles straining before something miraculous happens. Oswald goes loose with a broken sigh of longing, inching his hips up in small increments, impaling himself on Ed's cock.

“Very good, Oswald,” he agrees, slamming forward, listening to the sounds Oswald makes as he plunges inside of him .

Ed has seen incredible sights before. The exquisite splash of blood following the slash of a knife across skin, the sound of soil landing on top a makeshift coffin, an intricate puzzle slowly unravelling before his eyes.

But nothing compares to the sight of Oswald beneath him, splayed open with desire while greedily accepting the cock sliding deep and frantic into his ass.

“How interesting,” Ed says, wondering how he never thought of doing this before.

Oswald has a habit of showing him things that he never knew about himself. And this certainly is no different. 

Ed isn't at all used to this kind of lovely pressure. He’s going to come. Come right inside Oswald Cobblepot. There’s a definite appeal to the thought of marking Oswald up from the inside.

He leans in as he chases the edge of that crest, delighting in the noises Oswald releases, how he moves his hips so receptively with him. Ed’s teeth bite into the shell of Oswald’s ear first. Just a taste. And Oswald is gasping so much he could be choking, even as his body curves into it.

“You know,” Ed says conversationally around a grin, hips pumping. “I can still smell you in my bed.”

Oswald moans and tightens brutishly around him. Ed drops his forehead between Oswald’s shoulder blades with a groan, his orgasm the sweetest it’s ever been. And he watches Oswald quiver at the sensation of being filled with come.

Ed doesn’t pull out, astonished to realise he hasn’t softened yet. Breathing heavily, he reaches around to feel for Oswald’s cock with a hungry kind of curiosity.

Oswald’s body tightens again and Ed drives in on instinct, sensitive with pleasure even as his hands come away wet with Oswald’s come.

He inspects the semen with interest. Oswald came without even touching his own cock just from penetration alone. Ed wonders if it’s because he’s had a small number of sexual partners. Or if he’s never had another sexual partner at all.

Or perhaps he’s just very receptive to Ed’s cock.

The thought pleases him.

Is this what Oswald wanted all along? When he finally moves to withdraw, Oswald cries out and his hand reaches back to catch at Ed’s hip, fingers frantic and grasping.

“Ed,” he pants, with a wild but exhausted laugh, shifting and feeling that he’s still hard inside him. “Again.”

His mouth unfurls on a manic grin. Of course he'll oblige. After all an experiment needs to be repeated to be certain of the results.

And Oswald is the perfect test subject. 

  
  
  
“Where is he?” Oswald shouts, rage in his eyes at being cheated by one of his unsavoury henchmen.

The rest of his woefully unintelligent lackeys don’t have the answer Oswald wants. Ed wonders why he even bothered to ask them. He's been permitted back into the fold on a probationary status to help Oswald rebuild their empire. Now that Butch and Barabara are gone and out of the way and they have an army of Strange's freaks at their disposal.

Ed doesn't like them that much but at least Hugo Strange's experiments seem more intelligent than the apes in Oswald's crew. He doesn't hear much of the details of anything really so far, but that's mostly because Oswald doesn't fully trust him yet. 

But he will. 

Sex has changed things between them. He's constantly aware of a heat between them now, and more than not he catches the hunger in Oswald's eyes before he's able to drag him off somewhere private. This new partnership is working out much better than Ed could have ever hoped. 

But Penguin has his own plans for revenge. One of the crew sold them out to the GCPD for a bankroll, heftily depleted one of their stash houses. It's a blow, but not a debilitating one, but Oswald never likes to be crossed. 

Ed shares the sentiment. 

“I want him dead,” Oswald shrieks, hair flying off from his forehead. “I want to cut off his hands for ever thinking of stealing from me. I want-“

When it's clear Oswald is disappearing into his rage, Ed steps forward and wraps a forearm around his throat, tugging him backwards. “Go find him,” he commands the henchmen. “Bring him back for Mr Penguin.”

The henchmen hurry out of Oswald’s office even as his protests start getting louder, more explosive. Ed can’t deny he loves this destructive fury. But soon enough there won’t be enough henchmen left if Oswald kills them all. Much easier for some simple fools to do the muscle work for them.

Oswald struggles in his grip though he doesn’t slash open his belly like Ed knows he could. When he carries two switchblades just for that purpose.

“Ed,” he snaps. “Let go-“

“I’m great for protection," he says, lips trailing Oswald's ear. "You use your fingers to get me off. What am I?”

Oswald lets out a hiss of rage even as Ed drags his fingers to the answer in question. Gloves. Oswald is still describing the ways in which to kill his thieving henchman when he manages to drag his gloves off, tossing them onto the table.

He pulls Oswald down into a chair next, sitting him right on his lap and fumbling for the buttons on his trousers. Oswald finally realises what’s happening and cuts off his own rant, spluttering with indignation even as Ed leans in and bites at his neck.

He elbows Ed in the gut, hard, and writhes on his lap, unable to get directly to his feet because of his bad foot and the grip Ed has on him.

When he feels the answering press of Ed's erection however Oswald stops struggling. This is a dance they've picked up the steps to very quickly.

“Do it,” he demands, turning his head to glare, still furious.

Ed kisses him, hard, just to bite the anger out of his mouth. To taste the thirst for blood there. He pulls out the jar of lube that he carries around at all times now, for chances like this. To bend Oswald over the table, put him on his back, on any hard surface Ed can find.

It’s ironic how much Ed needs to get his cock in Oswald now at every opportunity. When he’d so easily rejected Oswald’s romantic intentions before.

Life’s quirks.

He gets his fingers in Oswald quick. Long and meticulous with his preparation and he's still shouting about spilling his henchman’s blood when Edward slots his cock inside him.

Then he goes quiet.

It’s another fascinating thing that Ed never predicted. That Oswald Cobblepot can be surprisingly agreeable once he’s sitting on a cock. Ed has theories about that but as always he’s swept up in how good it is. To be the only one to bring out these reactions from Oswald.

Ed wonders if Oswald is agreeable for anybody’s cock but the thought of someone else getting him like this only infuriates him. No one is going near Oswald if Ed has a say.

He’s going to be smarter this time. Then he was with Miss Kringle. It probably doesn’t hurt that the person he’s fucking now seems to have an almost annoying proclivity for survival. Penguin has had many death defying acts, to the point that anyone could be impressed. Even his enemies.

Ed’s tried to kill Oswald more than once. It’s a miracle of impossibilities that Oswald is still alive. More cockroach than penguin.

“Ed,” Oswald snaps, rolling his hips expectantly. “I want-”

Oh yes, Ed knows exactly what Oswald wants. He clutches at his body and bucks up hard, panting hotly into Oswald’s neck. If he had his way he’d fall asleep inside Oswald every night, but Penguin seems to have taken his advice about not being encumbered to heart. Not this time around it seems.

They fuck whenever they can, and if that happens to be in a bed, then Oswald always kicks him out after. And he never stays overnight at Ed’s place. He knows very well that he could force the issue, keep Oswald right where he’d like him but that’s half of the fun.

It’s like art watching Oswald’s boundaries slowly fall away. Soon he’ll have Oswald’s affections no matter who he has to kill or manipulate to do it.

Oswald won’t talk about feelings yet but Ed knows that he still has them. He's the first person Oswald ever fell in love with, there's no way he's gotten over that so soon. Ed's just biding his time until Oswald finally admits it. What a rush it's going to be when he does. 

He's not frustrated by how long it takes either. Sometimes the best puzzles take time.

And Ed isn’t tiring of this game. 

  
  
  
He doesn’t need to slip past the guards around Oswald’s manor to get inside, but that’s a test he likes to perform for the sheer joy of it. 

It always gets his blood pumping outsmarting everyone else in the room, and his breathing is hot and fast when he lets himself into Oswald’s bedroom uninterrupted.

Oswald is asleep. His birds nest of hair suitably worse than usual and Ed grins at the sight of him, already moving to work off his belt. Oswald startles awake at the first touch of fingers to his cheek.

“What’s messy and hard to clean up after sex?” Ed whispers, climbing up onto the bed and straddling Oswald’s hips in greeting.

He’s still sleepy but he’s more than awake when Ed nudges his erection against his stomach.

Oswald groans and they work together to get him out of his pyjamas. He’s hard too when Ed leans over him to drag the bottle of lube out from under the bed. He wonders if Oswald fingers himself when he isn’t around.

“Do you touch yourself without me?” he asks, slicking up his fingers and getting them inside Oswald.

“Ed, I hardly think that’s-“

He stops when he catches sight of the bruise on Oswald’s hip. In the shape of someone’s fingers. Rage rolls through him.

“Who touched you?” he demands, putting his finger to the bruise and applying pressure, all to hear Oswald whimper. “Who put their hands on you?”

Oswald pushes at him with a snort of amusement, shoving him away as he rolls over, Ed’s fingers sliding out of him all at once.

He catches hold of Oswald's hip before he can go anywhere, flattening Oswald to the pillows before he’s yanking his pants open and getting his cock out.

“You know,” Oswald starts as Ed pushes his cock inside. “For someone who rejected my affections, you’re very-“

Ed gives a particularly strong thrust.

“ _Determined_ ,” he pants. “To keep me all to yourself.”

He sees red at that. 

“Who else?” Ed snarls, hips snapping faster, filling Oswald up with his cock. “Who else, Oswald?”

Oswald groans, gasps and drags his hands back to clutch at him. But he gives no answer. Ed has no patience for figuring this out now.

“Who else?” he snaps, turning Oswald’s head to better see his eyes.

Oswald starts to laugh then and Ed grits his teeth, pulling out and rolling him over until he’s on his back. Until Ed can see his face properly when he asks the question. Some of Oswald’s flippancy vanishes at the expression he sees.

He lifts Oswald’s legs up next, resituating himself in the perfect position to resume their activities.

“Who else?” he repeats quietly before pushing his cock back in. “It’s not the man on 43rd street who touched you, because I slowly took him apart piece by piece. Who is it?

Oswald’s surprised by his intensity. “You were following me?” he realises. “What man did you kill?”

Ed slots himself back inside and relishes Oswald’s welcoming groan of satisfaction. “I don’t like this puzzle,” he says. “Give me the answer, Oswald.”

“It’s you,” he pants, as Ed resumes his pace. “You grabbed me two days ago, when you- ah- bent me over your desk. You don’t remember?”

Oswald wouldn’t lie about that at least. When Ed sets his fingers to the bruises again he can see past the haze of his jealousy to recognise that they match. When he meets Oswald’s gaze he lets out at little breathless noise and realises that they’ve yet to do this face to face.

The intimacy is not lost on him, but Oswald is playing much harder to get. He's held out on declaring his love much longer than Ed could have ever anticipated. It heats his blood knowing soon enough he'll get those words again. That this time he'll keep them. 

Ed leans down, bracing his elbows on either side of Oswald’s head and grinds his hips deep.

Oswald’s mouth is open, his expression so reactive to his every move. He’s kissing his slack lips before his anger has properly cooled, furiously slamming inside him, being constricted and held in that tight heat.

Ed wants this forever. Oswald making sweet noises under him. His cheeks are pink and flushed when he finally comes, clenching perfectly around Ed's cock.

“Hmm,” he sighs, kissing along Oswald’s throat while he recovers from his orgasm. “Oswald.”

“Keep going,” he pants, hands disappearing into his hair.

He’s close and there’s nothing he likes more now than the sight of Oswald leaking his come. Ed bites into Oswald’s skin, resuming leisurely rocking into him and getting lost in the clutch of Oswald’s body.

He comes eventually, sooner than he’d like, but he likes to savour these moments now whenever he can. He’s barely pulled out before Oswald is rolling away from him.

“Goodbye, Ed.”

The words leave him unsatisfied. He doesn’t move to go.

“You didn’t solve my riddle.”

Oswald turns back to glare at him. “What is it? We’re a partnership now like you always wanted. Gotham is ours. What else is there?”

Ed reaches out to grasp his wrist. “What’s messy and hard to clean up after sex?” he repeats.

Oswald stares at him, uncomprehendingly but that’s alright. Ed’s willing to give him this one. He’s willing to give a lot of things now that he understands the need always curling within him.

“Feelings, Oswald,” he replies, leaning in to kiss him again.

Oswald’s cheeks are still flushed when Ed draws away, but the indifference in his expression has shifted. “Feelings?” he repeats, carefully.

He’s staring at him suspiciously and the sight only makes Ed laugh. Why would he lie about this now after everything?

When his come starts sliding out of Oswald’s ass, he loses focus on the conversation altogether. Ed reaches forward and scoops it up, pushing it back inside Oswald, savouring how he keens.

“You and me, Oswald,” he says, watching his eyes roll back with bliss. “You and me.”

“Yes,” Oswald agrees breathlessly. “You and me.”

Good.

That’s all Ed wanted.  
  
  



End file.
